


Lady Firecracker

by ladyofreylo



Series: Flip Zimmerman [7]
Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fireworks, Fluff and Smut, Fourth of July, Happy Ending, Love Story, One-Shot, Racism, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25073590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofreylo/pseuds/ladyofreylo
Summary: Flip snorted.  “You owe me a girlfriend,” he said.  “Mine read your damn column and dumped me.”Rey was taken aback.  “Really?  What’d you do to her?”Flip’s brows snapped together. “Not a fu… a thing,” he growled.  “She decided she needed to be ‘free from patriarchy,’ whatever the fu… whatever that means.”Rey shrugged.  “Maybe she wanted to self-actualize and not be reliant on a man.”Flip glared at her.  “You owe me a girlfriend.  Are you planning to pay up tonight?”“No,” Rey shot back furiously.  “I can’t materialize a woman who will be your girlfriend.”
Relationships: Rey (Star Wars)/Flip Zimmerman, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Flip Zimmerman [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741786
Comments: 32
Kudos: 141





	Lady Firecracker

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Fourth of July to those who celebrate.
> 
> Lift Ev'ry Voice is indeed the Black National Anthem. Take a listen. It is so beautiful.

[Lift Every Voice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ONgOH_tq7-Q)

**Lady Firework’s Fourth of July Column, 1973**

_Women Who Love Men: Don’t settle for less. Find a man who will respect you, love you, and light your rockets. Let him shoot you into space, let him help you flame out above the stars, saturated in deep reds and velvet blues. Do such men exist? We can always hope. Flame on! Happy Fourth of July, Fiery Women._

<>

Rey Johnson allowed Patrice to pull her along across the mowed field toward the outside gathering. Tables had been set up, a couple of barbecue pits threw off thick, mouth-watering smoke, and the bandshell crouched in the distance, waiting for performers. Farther afield, fireworks waited to be shot off when darkness fell.

“Come on, we’re a little late. I told Ron we’d meet them at seven.”

“Them?” Rey’s wedge sandals hit a gopher hole and she almost tripped.

“Yeah, Ron and his partner. I told you about him, didn’t I?” Patrice turned around to look at Rey.

“Flip Zimmerman? That partner?”

“Yes.”

Rey walked slower. “You told me about Ron, but not that he had Flip with him tonight.” 

Patrice was up to her matchmaking antics again. Rey had never met Detective Phillip Zimmerman. She’d only heard stories about the tough, rather hard-bitten individual, whom Ron loved like a brother.

Patrice laughed and waited for Rey to catch up. “Don’t worry. He’s white.”

Rey rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I’m worried about, Patrice.”

“Well, you can’t date a Black guy in Co Springs without somebody looking at you funny. Things aren’t that progressive around here.” Patrice scanned the crowd. “Oh, there they are. I can see Flip from here. He sticks out in the crowd, like a Caucasian tree. Look.”

Sure enough, there was a tall white guy standing in a sea of mostly shorter African-American people. He looked like a scarecrow standing next to Patrice’s boyfriend, Ron. He also looked grumpy.

Patrice walked faster, her bell-bottoms whipping around her legs. “Ron!” she called. “We’re here.”

Rey followed at a more sedate pace in her short jean skirt and wished for different shoes. She gave Ron a quick hug hello.

Ron said, “Hey, Flip, Patrice found you a white girl to hang out with.” He gave a great big laugh. Flip shot Ron an annoyed glance.

“Thanks a lot,” he mumbled. He raised his eyes to gaze at Rey.

Rey took a step forward and offered her hand. “Rey Johnson.”

Flip took her hand in a giant mitt and shook it firmly. “Rey, nice to meet you. I’m Flip Zimmerman.” 

Patrice said, “Hey, you probably know who Rey is. A lot of people have been reading her column. She’s Lady Firecracker.”

Flip looked Rey up and down. “You’re Lady Firecracker?”

“Yes, I am,” Rey said. 

She’d pitched the feminist advice column to the Colorado Springs Women’s Weekly a couple of months ago. They’d agreed to let her write it and the column had taken off from there.

Flip snorted. “You owe me a girlfriend,” he said. “Mine read your damn column and dumped me.”

Rey was taken aback. “Really? What’d you do to her?”

Flip’s brows snapped together. “Not a fu… a thing,” he growled. “She decided she needed to be ‘free from patriarchy,’ whatever the fu… whatever that means.”

Rey shrugged. “Maybe she wanted to self-actualize and not be reliant on a man.”

Flip glared at her. “You owe me a girlfriend. Are you planning to pay up tonight?”

“No,” Rey shot back furiously. “I can’t materialize a woman who will be your girlfriend.”

“This is going well,” Ron muttered. “Flip, can you not do this today?”

Flip turned his gaze on Ron. “No, I cannot _not_ do this today.”

“It’s a Fourth of July barbecue, Flip,” Patrice said. “Full of Black folks. And you. And Rey. Let’s enjoy the party.”

Flip shot Rey an unreadable look.

Patrice twined her arm with Flip’s. “Come on, honey bear, you need some good old-fashioned barbecue to sweeten you up.”

Ron shook his head at Rey. “After you,” he said and motioned her ahead of him.

As they walked to the overstuffed tables laden with every kind of barbecue delicacy, Rey questioned Ron in a whisper.

“What’s Grumpy Gus’s problem with my column?”

Ron huffed. “I don’t know but I bet you’ll get to hear about it. He’s not one to hold back on the opinions.”

The four of them sat at one of the tables spread out on the flattest grassy area to eat. Rey sat next to Flip, who ate like his food was going to disappear in the next ten minutes. Ron and Patrice kept up a running conversation about the upcoming fireworks display. 

Rey felt Flip’s eyes on her. “Yes?” she asked, turning toward him.

“I need some advice,” Flip answered, after taking a sip of his Coke and wiping his mouth.

“Concerning what exactly?”

“How do I get a girlfriend? Tell me that, oh wise columnist.”

“If you’re going to be snide about it, you’ll never get a girlfriend,” Rey said, primly.

“Top three things a woman wants in a man. Go,” he said.

“Go where?”

Flip rolled his eyes. “Go. Like a race. Speak up and tell me.”

Rey chewed her bite of cornbread for a moment, watching Flip. “First, let’s not talk to a woman like she’s a racehorse. ‘Go’ is not appropriate.”

“Fine. What else?”

“Second, you’re barking orders at me in a rather gruff manner. Please modulate your tone to a more pleasing register.”

Flip glared at her. “Yeah, and….?”

“Are you planning to shout at me in the next minute?”

Ron snickered from across the table.

“Shut up,” Flip said to him.

“She’s got your number, Flip.” Patrice smiled, reached over, and patted his arm.

“Which number is that? My phone number?” Flip asked, eyes daring Patrice to speak.

Patrice dissolved into laughter. “Only if you give it to her. I bet she’d call you. Wouldn’t you call him, Rey? You’re a modern woman, and he’s acting like such a prize right now.”

Rey made a face. “He looks like he’s ready to bite me or something. No, thanks.”

“Flip, my man, you have to fix your face,” Ron said. “Been telling you that. Hannah got scared of you and your dang moody-ass self.”

Patrice roared with laughter. “Five bucks says Rey won’t scare that easily, Ron. Do your worst, Detective Flip. Do your worst.” Ron and she gave each other a high five.

Rey put her head in her hands for a second. This was not what she signed up for tonight.

Flip stared at them. “I wouldn’t be so fu… damn moody if this woman hadn’t run my girlfriend away with her fuck… bull… uh, column.”

“Fourth,” Rey said crisply, “A woman likes a man who takes responsibilities for his faults and doesn’t blame others for his problems. Also, just go ahead and swear if you want to. No one gives a shit.”

Flip tapped his fingers on the table irritably. “A man doesn’t want to review his fucking faults in front of his best friends.”

Rey shrugged. “You asked me, detective.”

“Is this why they call you Lady Firecracker? Because you explode all over people?”

“There is no ‘they.’ I call myself that for many reasons. Most of which you can’t even begin to imagine.” Rey hopped up, disposed of her plate, and followed Patrice over to where the lawn chairs were stashed by a cluster of trees.

The music was about to begin.

Rey sat next to Flip who continued to look like a thundercloud. She couldn’t decide if he was handsome or just huge. He had thick dark hair parted in the middle, a long nose, and a scruffy goatee and mustache. His eyes were a lighter brown than expected for such dark hair. It gave him the appearance of looking right through a person and seeing what was inside. Probably made him a good cop. His face was perpetually frozen in hard lines, like he’d seen a lot of bullshit and wanted to yell at the world. Rey wondered what had happened to make him wear that expression.

She didn’t have any more time to ponder Detective Zimmerman’s face. The music had started.

First, a choir came onstage to sing two National Anthems: _Lift Ev'ry Voice_ and _The_ _Star-Spangled Banner_. Rey rose from her seat and felt tears prick her eyes at the soaring voices. The crowd sang along with both. Rey sang softly with her hand on her heart, especially for the first anthem. She felt Flip’s eyes on her but ignored him. Because she worked as a fundraiser for a local women’s shelter, she’d seen a lot of racism and sexism in action and felt strongly about supporting Patrice’s community. 

She wouldn’t have known about the Black National Anthem without Patrice giving her some background on James Weldon Johnson and his brother John Rosamond Johnson, who wrote the song. It was first sung in 1900 at a segregated school in Florida, where James Weldon Johnson was principal, and later recognized by the NAACP as the Black National Anthem.

It was the first time she’d heard it sung and it was a rich, stirring song, much like _The Star-Spangled Banner_. She got chills listening to it.

After the anthems were sung, Rey noted that she and Flip were just about the only two white people at the event. This was not the first time she’d been in the minority. She’d only been hired to fundraise because Patrice had put in a good word for her—and she kind of felt bad for taking the job. Patrice told her to calm down; the Women’s Shelter needed her talent.

Rey sat and watched the musicians perform other selections while everyone waited for the sun to go down. Patrice and Ron got up to dance, along with many others.

Flip and Rey found themselves on their own. 

Rey debated and finally decided to offer an olive branch. She could be the bigger person.

“Sorry about snapping at you earlier,” Flip said suddenly. “There was no call for it.”

Rey turned and looked at him in amazement. “It’s all right. I’m sure it was a shock to meet me, especially if you don’t care for my column.”

Flip cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “The column’s okay. My ex cited it as the reason she decided to move on. I have no idea if that’s true or not. She could have had other reasons.”

Rey nodded slowly. “Maybe, but that can happen. Reading something can trigger a change in someone’s mindset.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” he said.

“No, I didn’t. And as you said, it could’ve been something else that prompted the breakup.”

They listened to the music for a bit. Ron and Patrice were on the other side of the band shell talking to different groups of people. The band changed over to smooth jazz which melted into the deepening twilight. It was soothing to sit in the warm air and listen.

“Did you love her very much?” Rey asked. It was none of her business, she realized, as the words left her mouth. But she thought Flip Zimmerman, macho man, might be hurting because of some realization she’d brought forth in this Hannah person.

“I don’t know,” he said uncomfortably. He paused. “Not that much, really. I just got used to her being around. Then she wasn’t. It was a while ago. Things weren’t that good to begin with. My fault.”

“Ready to fix it with the next one?” Rey asked softly.

His face froze. “I don’t know. My job is hard on women.”

“How?”

“Weird hours, long nights away. Dangerous undercover work. The usual cop complaints. I can’t talk about a lot of my work because it’s privileged information, so some women think I’m holding back. Maybe I am.”

“If you love your job and your girlfriend loves you, she’ll accept it and encourage you,” Rey offered.

He sighed and raked a hand through his thick hair. “That’s not been my experience.”

“Then you’ve been with the wrong women.”

He leaned over. “I need a fucking list to help me out. What qualities make a good girlfriend? Got some advice on that, Lady Firework?”

“Yes, I do.” Rey ticked off the qualities on her fingers. “You want someone who knows herself and knows what she wants. Someone who isn’t afraid to support you in your career—while being her own person and having her own life. Someone who is smart and won’t take any nonsense. The last thing you need is a doormat.”

Flip gazed at Rey. “Sounds about right to me. Now, let’s just get one thing straight. You owe me a woman who meets those criteria.”

Rey pretended to think. “It’s a tall order, Detective. I’ll see what I can do.”

Ron and Patrice walked up. 

“Come on, you two. Dance with us. Don’t just sit there like white people,” Ron said.

“Or are you still mad, Phillip?” Patrice asked. “You know, come to think of it… If you’re really serious about finding a girlfriend, honey-bear, you should check out my girl, Rey-Rey here. Our Lady Firework is all about women blooming and booming. She encourages women to burst forth in all their colors and be shooting stars across the world. Rey is just such a woman. She’d make a great girlfriend for you. She’s got all the necessary qualifications.” Patrice turned in a circle and curtsied.

“Please allow us to choose our own partners, Trice,” Rey said tartly. “We’re capable people.”

“Okay, capable white people…” Ron added. “Come and dance. Show us your pyrotechnics.”

“Ron, I swear…” Flip started, pointing a big finger at Ron, who smacked at it and laughed.

Flip lumbered up from his seated position. He held out his hand to Rey. “They’re not going to leave us alone,” he said. “Trust me, I know from working with this guy.”

Rey tucked her hand into Flip’s larger one and got up. He nudged her over to the middle of the dance area with Ron and Patrice behind them.

Flip turned and pulled Rey close. “And don’t call us white people,” Flip called out.

Patrice laughed out loud. “We got white people out here dancing with us,” she yelled.

The crowd clapped and shouted encouragement. Some came up to Flip and whacked him on the back, hollering congratulations—for no other reason than they were out on the grassy dance floor.

Rey grinned up at Flip. She saw the ghost of a smile cross his face. He pulled her close again and they danced.

Rey felt every single hard muscle in Flip’s arm flex and his broad hand almost covered her back. She looked up into his face in the dark light reflected off the bandshell. His face had hard plains and pointed angles, a smattering of moles, and the softest lips she’d ever seen on a man. Handsome didn’t describe him. It was too small a term for the character she saw, the intelligence in his eyes, the smile that didn’t come easily to him. If he did smile, she’d bet it would light up a room. He wasn’t grumpy now, she thought as she searched his face, he was reserved, unreadable, as a good detective should be.

Their eyes met and held. Rey watched Flip as he slowly smiled at her, full on. She caught her breath. His face was transformed.

He dropped her arm around his shoulder and rested his forehead on hers.

She owed him a girlfriend.

They danced slowly regardless of the music, with Rey lost in this big man’s eyes.

Suddenly, the band stopped playing and people around them clapped. Ron patted Flip on the shoulder.

“Time for the fireworks, my man. C’mon.”

They headed back to the chairs where Ron and Patrice sat together—Patrice perched on Ron’s lap.

Flip dropped into his seat and pulled Rey onto his lap.

She laughed.

“I thought that’s what we’re doing,” he said, winking at her.

“It is,” she agreed and snuggled her bottom further into his lap. He rested his hand on her bare thigh.

The fireworks started. Rey had to turn her body to see the display. Her back was against Flip’s broad chest and his hand moved up to her belly. When the first round was over, Flip held up a hand.

“Help me clap,” he murmured in Rey’s ear. So she smacked her hand against his to clap for the display.

People started standing up to get a better look, and Rey’s view was partially obstructed. She sat up a little higher, then stood up to get a better angle.

Flip rose from the seat, too. “Hey, let’s find another place,” he said.

Ron and Patrice said they were going to walk closer.

Flip said low in Rey’s ear, “Come with me.” He started walking toward a larger cluster of trees farther away. A broad stump made an excellent seat for the two of them.

Flip put his arm around Rey. “Better,” he said.

She leaned against him. “I’m sorry I was so snippy with you earlier.”

He kissed her temple lightly. “We were both aggravated.” He paused. “I don’t like being set up on blind dates.”

“This isn’t working for you?” Rey turned to look at him.

He took the opportunity to lean over and touch his lips to hers. “It’s working great for me, sweetheart. I just wasn’t ready for Ron and Patrice to tell me to like someone just because she’s white and I’m white. I’m actually Jewish, which is white, but… not WASP white.”

Rey smiled and sought another kiss. Flip obliged her. His mustache tickled her face.

“I suspect Patrice has been wanting to introduce us. She digs you. She says you’re a good, strong man—with surprisingly progressive ideas.”

He laughed out loud. “For a pig.” He shook his head. “I can hear her saying it.”

Rey huffed in protest. “She never said that in my presence. She likes you, Flip. She’s all about trying to make us two white refugees happy.”

“Are we the only white folks she knows?” He gazed at Rey.

“I don’t think so, but we may be her only two white friends. I don’t think it’s about race anyway. She’s a busybody with everyone. She’s trying to set Martika up with this guy who delivers packages to us. She started bugging me about it, but said, and I quote, ‘Girl, you’d run circles around him. So never mind.’”

Flip slapped his thigh. “Welp, we can’t have that, now. You wouldn’t like being with that kind of man anyway.”

Rey jabbed him with an elbow. “How the fuck do you know?”

“Ten minutes. You’d be bored.”

He cupped her chin and turned her face toward his. “You need someone who can go toe-to-toe with you.”

Rey looked into his eyes as the fireworks burst over her head. He leaned in and touched her lips again.

“Yes, I do,” she murmured between kisses.

His tongue slipped between her lips, setting off surges of desire within her. Rey ignored the flames leaping overhead to delve further into fireworks rocketing between them.

A thick tree trunk sheltered them as Rey wound herself around Flip’s strong waist. He held her against the scaly bark, which bit into her back, playing counterpoint to feel of Flip’s thumb deliciously sliding on her swollen clit. He swallowed her moans as she came hard and fast. She helped him unzip and slip his dick between the plump lips, wetting its velvet head. He moved himself up and down her cunt, driving her wild with the need for him to go inside and fill her. His thumb found her again as he slowly opened her cunt, pushing inside until he bottomed out. She swallowed his moans as he worked himself inside her, finding a rhythm he liked. She brushed his thumb away and rubbed herself until she felt desire spring up again. It overcame her when he squeezed her bottom and plunged into her wildly. She threw her head back and came on his cock, propelling him to his own completion.

A moment of sanity returned when Rey realized they had fucked behind a tree and anyone with a full bladder could’ve wandered back there and found them.

Flip lowered her to the ground. Her legs could barely hold her up, but she retrieved her fallen underwear, shook it out and put it back on.

They sat on the stump again, flushed and at peace from their private fireworks.

“You’re truly my Lady Firework,” Flip said nuzzling her ear. 

She kissed him. “This was the best fireworks show I’ve ever been to.”

Later, lying in Flip’s big bed, they kept the fireworks splashing down around them all night long.

Rey watched Flip sleep, an arm around her, holding her close to him. She had found him a lover, a girlfriend—a woman full of fire and passion, flame and desire, bursting with love.

<>

**Lady Firework’s Fourth of July Column, 1974**

_Women Who Love Men: Look for your love, Fiery Women. Sleep in his arms if you find him. He won’t seek to tamp down your flame, if he’s truly yours. He will kindle your desire, meet it, match it, and send you high into the sky. You’ll drift back down softly, knowing he will catch you and hold you dear. Never settle for less. Happy Fourth, Happy Fireworks._

From our family to yours...


End file.
